


Priceless

by blackredpanda



Category: This War of Mine (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Character Study, Gen, Minor spoilers for Arica's journal, referenced child death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 00:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19306591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackredpanda/pseuds/blackredpanda
Summary: Even in war – especially in war – an experienced thief like Arica knows what to steal. What to sell.What to value.





	Priceless

Arica stopped at the foot of the ladder leading up from the cold, damp basement, and listened. The night sounds of Pogoren – the cracks of gunshots, the deep booms of grenades, the rumbles of APCs on the move – were all muted down here, and quietly shunted to the back of Arica's mind. No sound came from immediately above other than the skittering and squeaking of rats.

She took this in in a single breath. In her next, she popped open the trapdoor and sprang up into the kitchen of the cottage, swift and silent as a fox.

That had all been purely from habit; she'd heard the cottage had been abandoned after looters attacked. Most of the furniture and utensils were missing. There was still a photo of the former occupants hanging on the wall. A hulking man with thick, dark hair on his head and face and arms had his bearlike frame wrapped around his beaming, golden-blonde wife and his two daughters, both spitting images of their mother.

Lucky girls. The only time Arica's drunkard father had held her so was the last time he ever could.

Wherever this family was now, though, they weren't going to eat the preserved meat and vegetables they'd left in the cupboards. The vegetables were as dry and colourless as the meat, but there was enough to last for several days, if carefully rationed. What more could one ask for? Maybe that old cook – Bruno? – could even make something half-decent out of it. 

She moved on, scanning each room with practised eyes and snatching up other valuables as she went. An old sleeping bag with only a few holes. (With a pallet to keep it off the floor, it would make an okay bed. Then maybe Bruno would stop whinging.) Handful of smokes. (The ones with real tobacco were hers, for scavenging tonight. Roman and Bruno could have the shitty roll-ups made from assorted weeds.) Bottle of booze. A few packets of the dried herbal meds people were forced to have faith in these days. A simple gold chain with no ornaments. (She wouldn't have to look for a fence. Anyone hoping to cash it in after the war would pay with food, no questions asked.)

In the old days, a house like this wouldn't be worth robbing even if it was deserted with the door wide open. But now... if the family had simply decided to hole up elsewhere, they should have taken these precious supplies with them.

Things had ended badly here.

She held her breath and ascended the stairs, gripping her crowbar loosely at her side. The door to the study right in front of the landing was open. While the room was full of scattered papers and stationery, there was no trace of blood or smell of rot. However, when she stepped in to take a closer look, she saw a piece of paper with writing lying on top of the mess, which she picked up to read.

_On the first day they robbed us. Two days later they murdered our girls. I shot every one of them. But I don't want to use the gun anymore, it's broken and buried in the backyard._

_If you're reading this – don't look for me._

Poor bastard.

He shouldn't have broken the gun, though. Life was cheap; so weapons were priceless.

Might still be worth digging up the parts on the way out.

**Author's Note:**

> Reads and kudos always appreciated. All comments welcome, including but not limited to emotes, short comments, rambles, questions, or constructive criticism.


End file.
